Others are witty and downright hilarious, from band dudes who didn’t like an opinion that was expressed about them or a certain situation. Last night, Jack Osbourne — of Sharon and Ozzy Osbourne’s loins — reached out with a rather lengthy letter we figured we’d share with you, while also offering some rebuttal.
Please note I had to edit his email for spelling and grammatical errors, of which there were plenty.
Dearest Chris Harris: I had the privileged of stumbling across your “heavy metal” blog and I was pleasantly surprised to discover your clear and passionate disdain for myself.
Although, I 99.9% of the time, tend to let this kind of stuff roll off my back, I have found myself rather compelled to reach out to float a couple questions your way.
So far, nothing too disparaging. Other than putting the word heavy metal in quotes. But that’s cool.
1. Your website’s log line/slogan is “more metal then your Mommas kettle.” Since when was it metal to act like Perez Hilton?
First of all, dude, the slogan is a reference to the content, not me specifically. And I don’t act like Perez Hilton. I don’t draw cocks or nut sacks on people’s faces, but maybe I should start. All I do is express my honest opinion, which I am entitled to do.
2. I see from your vast list of credits that you have worked for the likes for MTV and RollingStone. That, by definition, would make you a journalist. So wouldn’t that lend to reason that you understand the process of research? Here is why I ask — I have read numerous posts where you accuse me of being talentless and living off my father.
Now as far as you thinking I’m talentless, well, that’s purely a matter of perspective and opinion. And as a citizen born into a free society you are entitled to have such a privileged.
So this brings me to my second point regarding my employment status and whether my job amounts to yours.
Wait, was that English? I tried to edit that last sentence, but couldn’t make heads or tails of what he was trying to say.
This is something that can not be muddled by perspective and/or opinion. So if you had done your due-diligence and researched “Jack Osbourne,” you would have discovered that I not only have worked in television since the age of 15, but I have also engaged in multiple work-related projects that are very independent from my father business and trade craft, and I have achieved a great amount of success in doing so.
You’ve worked in television since the age of 15, huh? Yeah, only because fucking MTV wanted to put your dad on their channel, so the world could mock him. That show was a disgrace to heavy metal, and should have ended three seasons sooner. Did I watch? Yes, out of sheer morbid curiosity. Because people love dysfunction.
In fact you can tune into one of the 7 television shows I am currently involved in over the next few month. (I wish I could say the same about yourself) Moreover I have never taken a dime from my father or family. (But that is none of your damn business to begin with).
Never? I don’t think there is a person on Earth who believes that horseshit! And you would’t know what the fuck I am up to, because I am just a lowly writer with a blog you’ve never heard of, but I’ve got you all figured out.
In your blog post you said: “If not for my parents, I’d be homeless in all likelihood. But I have an actual job. I make money of my own. And my dad’s got nothing to do with it. I have success in my field because I put in the time, and because I know what I am doing and have the experience to “dominate.”
By that statement, do you not imply that your parents did absolutely everything in their power to provide for you and give you everything they could do so you could “…dominate?” How is that any different then what my parents have done for me?
It isn’t very different, but different. Look dude, I grew up middle class, with my parents making extreme sacrifices just so my sister and I could fucking eat. But I’ve never glommed off of them. I have my own identity, separate from them, which is something other children of famous folks have managed to attain; who bore them becomes an afterthought. Not with you. I’m sure you are involved in a number of projects, but how many of them involve pops?
As a new father, I am determined to provide everything in my power to allow my daughter to have the best, most successful life possible. Even if that means opening doors for her or involving her in the industry. (I do not suppose you could possibly understand this concept seeing as you only seem to have a cat) Is that not what my parents have done for me? Is that not what your parents have done for you? Hypocrite much?
Dude, I may not be a parent, but that’s by choice. And no, I am not a hypocrite as my parents have zero connections. I didn’t get a job at MTV News because of who my dad and mom are. No doors were opened for me because of associations; it was because I can tell a story better than most people can. I have a talent. I’ve taken shots at you in the past, I’ll admit. I never thought you’d take the time to email me. But seriously, Jack — do you actually think people would give a fuck about you if your last name wasn’t Osbourne?
By the way, what do your parents do? I’m sure whatever it is they do they would loved for you to have walked in there footsteps. Or are you so steadfast in your belief that no child should ever involve him or herself in their parents line of work? Because if America or the world for that matter, shared the same immature opinion, there would be a whole lot more unemployed people.
My dad is a retired cop, and my mom stayed at home to raise my sister and I before doing administrative work once we hit college. Yes, my dad wanted me to follow in his footsteps, but only because of the pension that comes with public sector work. I felt the need to do my own thing, to be my own person — not because I think children shouldn’t ever emulate their parents. I’ll try to emulate my parents, but only because they are good, hard-working people with moral fiber. You are famous for existing. You’re like Rob Kardashian, only more annoying because you think you’re fucking cool and metal. You’re a douche (I met your drunk ass at an Axe party at the Guccione Mansion in New York some years ago, and you and your pals couldn’t have been bigger assholes.)
In your blog post you also state that you “put in the time…” and that you “…know what you are doing.” This is in fact a lie and very misleading to however few readers you may or may not have. (I guess I have the misfortune of being one of your readers now) from what I can tell most of your post of very ill informed and nothing but half-assed attempts at being controversial.
Glad your are a reader now. I can always use the traffic, but every site could. You’d be surprised at how many people check us out. And those were full-assed attempts, I will have you know.
It’s funny, because I noticed that you posted how I am unable to take criticism. And here I am writing you. So in fact that could very well be the only true fact about me you have shared with your five readers. But let’s get something straight — I can take criticism and I can take opinions but what I cannot take is ignorance.
Especially from people such as yourself. If you have a platform and an ability to speak from it, whether its a little tinny itty-bitty blog like yourself or multiple internationally televised TV shows like myself, use it wisely and from a place best informed. Don’t be a little ignorant child.
Ignorant? You’re oblivious to what the public’s perception of you is, aren’t you Jack? That’s so sad. You have no fucking clue. Guess what? You are a cliche — a weak-willed flea with numerous rehab stints. Girls have only ever fucked you because of your last name and your bank account amount. How’s that feel?
The one thing that I have taken away from most of your postings about myself is that you seem to be very jealous of me. My family, my career, and my wife. Am I wrong? If so please inform me otherwise or why I might have that impression.
Am I jealous that you were born into a life of privilege? No. Am I jealous you receive special treatment and lucky breaks all because of who your dad and mom are? No. Am I jealous of your wife? I’d bang her, but no, I’m not jealous. Am I jealous of the fact that you don’t ever have to do actual work for the rest of your life, because of your folks? Maybe just a little. But that’s not why I think you’re useless. I think you’e useless because you are. To me, at least. And it is my blog, after all.
In closing I would like to state that this email is not to convince you to like me or to stop writing poorly about me or my family but to encourage you to stop being such a cowardly, jealous moron. And if we are ever in the same place at the same time come over to me and extend your hand and tell me to my face what you think about me and my family. Because sitting behind a laptop talking shit is by no means “metal.”
As if you’d know the definition.
I wouldn’t expect you to know that because the man that helped create metal is not your father, he’s mine.
And thank some higher power for that, because otherwise, you’d just be some schlep like the rest of us, who’ve basically funded your fucking lifestyle. Coat tails…you ride ‘em.
Below I have added some basic rudimentary research on myself. So if you want to continue to write that tripe about me you can at least know what the fuck you are talking about.
Jack listed his Wikipedia and IMDB.com pages for my purview. By the way Jack, I may also give you something of a tough time because your mom tried (unsuccessfully) to have me fired from my job twice. Fuck with my livelihood, and I remember that shit.
I look forward to hearing your response.
Listen you lame fuck. The next time you’re in New York, let me know; chances are I won’t be in your neck of the woods any time soon. I’d love to meet up and explain to you why you’re not liked. Not just by me, but by basically anyone who hasn’t undergone a lobotomy.
And you know what you’d do? Nothing. Just like everybody else who talks big. You guys talk so much, you forget to throw punches. And even if your feeble brain did get up the guts to send an electrical charge to your fist, and you socked me in the fucking eye, I’d get up. I’d mostly be shocked but I’d also be psyched. I’d have one hell of a case. And that’s what this world’s about, dude. It’s all about the almighty dollar, something you’ve never had to sweat a day in your life to make. You make me sick.